DistantCryptid

Ehh..

Boreal, as they are hurled by a nearby tree, crashes directly on the bush behind the man dealing the papers, righting their dislocated thumb, they let out a slew of cussing and spitting out some leaves, they took a copy and read through, their mood turned sour and their day ruined, but the paper did wider their smirk a little bit.

A choice was made. Boreal pulled just enough together to fit in their old leathery satchel, a few pieces of shortbread, a waterskin, their knife and their sling. They left dressed themselves for the cold, having an extra pair of clothing if anything was to go south. The elf then paused as they rested their gilded gaze upon their staff that leaned against the wall of the house they once shared with a friend, that now was mostly them and their new housemate. With a subtle nod, they opened the duo of doors to their home, letting the warm air of the afternoon hit their face, they sighed, putting on their large-brimmed hat and exiting the small house with the creaky floors. They passed by their hounds, giving each a treat and some attention, smiling brightly as they rubbed the belly of a particularly needy one, before they glanced back up at the house, their smile dulling around it’s edges yet not fading as they read over the sign denominating those living inside, the memories of the previously mentioned goblin stinging as they usually did, but now there was something different, who knew. They then rose to their full height, letting out a low exhale and turning around, slinging the crooked staff over their wide shoulders and brushing a few strands of white hair off of their face, they continued, jaw tightened with the guilt that rattled their mind for years now. Coming down the pathway, they found no-one around, this was to be expected, yet it still pained them, but why? Why did it hurt them so much to be alone? Why did they always feel like an outsider looking in? These questions plagued their often frantic mind, repeating in a sound akin to nails on a chalkboard, it was a god-awful cacophony of shrilling voices. They had made the effort to fit in for so long that they forgot who they really were. They had tried so hard to stall change that they became miserable. And they tried taming chaos so many times that the spark that once led them faded. Yet then, it hit them, as soon as they arrived at the tundra lands surrounding Haense, the epiphany long overdue landed on their head like a stone, the crushing force of change. “Change” muttered the elf aloud, breath making a cloud of fog as it left their maw, as they decided to take a seat on one of the larger-rooted trees that surrounded them, that was the good call, given the racing pace of their thoughts nearly swept them off their feet. “The war.. Chaos, control” muttered the pale one once more, sighing as they wiped at their eyes, they finally understood, even if only starting to do so, they were so sorry, sorry that they let themselves be mistreated by the one they trusted the most, sorry for isolating themselves instead of getting help, they were sorry. And then… They heard the voice, the voice of their father, loud and clear as if he was present, sitting beside them. “Don’t be sorry, be mindful” They understood now, they knew what to do.

Boreal, the very tired and unhinged gardener read over the missive, invite, they couldn't quite put it, although the mentioning of costumes seemed to get their mood up, Boreal smiled brightly, already thinking of the ways they'd cause mayhem with their newest designs "it'll be... interesting." muttered the pale one, to no one in particular, well, at least no one that could be seen near them, the cloud of butterflies that trailed their every stance fluttered by the paper, as they made it into an origami of a frog and stuffed it into one of their many, many pockets.

Boreal, the perpetual outsider looking in, listened to father Moroul's ravings, they sigh, turning to read over the missive, prayer did not help , attempting to aid as they could did not make a dent in the dragon that is war, they watched this conflict, they saw a man that they had met hours prior be brutalized, they had watched the political squabble, they heard the shrills coming from broken homes where mothers did not see their sons, this was war. There was no blaze of glory, all they witnessed was those closest to them be ripped out of their grasp, only to pave a street in blood and ashes They are so tired.

Man b****es be sh*****g bricks when they walk into sutica while using the "detect witch " spell.

Boreal, upon reading the short note, released a sigh, their smile didn't falter, although their body language took a shift, shoulders drooping slightly from their usually tense state. "Blessed be. You will be remembered, sister forget-me-not" The pale elf hummed, grabbing a hold of their staff and departing soon afterwards.

Boreal, being handed the newspaper while on the rain, they read it over, being shielded from the water by their large-brimmed hat, humming along as they merely chuckled, folding the paper over a few times and placing it inside their carrier's bag for later use "perhaps i can make some nice origami from this." they mused to no-one in particular.

A particular elf read over the missive, brushing a few strands of ivory hair from their face, they let out an audible huff through their nose, their face unchanged, always rested in a smile. The amber-hued eyes watched over the woodlands they had wandered through for long, they lacked the full story, and they knew that, but they couldn't help but fold the missive over, placing it along the remaining others that compiled a tale of a hated kingdom.

A disheveled elf resting on one of the trees nearing Orenian lands took the missive into their uneven hands, reading over the words and demands, the smile usually plastered across their face didn't falter, their tired gaze flickered across the land they watched over for now, Elvenesse was not their home and most citizens were not their kin. But so weren't the orcs, yet they hoped for this to end, for once in their lifetime they found themselves in prayer. For the wars to end, for the violence to halt... ...yet they knew their wish was not going to be granted, that the conflict was none of their business.

Noice

Having a memory wipe that easily made is gonna backfire so bad y'all gonna have whiplash, it's gonna get abused, because LotC is the actual meaning of the phrase "this is why we can't have nice things." Have you even met your own player base? Some dips**t is gonna loophole this like they always do and ruin it for everyone else.

Ah s**t Joel got the shotgun, good for him, good for him. in all seriousness though please don't let yourself get burnt out my man, server's meant to be fun for everyone, even the masochists that decide to manage it.

Boreal read over the missive, by themselves in their home, they merely decided to join Hareven's habit of folding them into origami as they finished reading them, or merely using the backside for drawing and writing. "Perhaps something more entertaining would come from this realm aside from political bickering? Who knows." The pale elf mused, their usually mirthless complexion curling up into a smile.

The Boreal Druii read over the missive "Oh F**k no, Hell no" They mumbled out under their breath, as they then got up and walked away from where they read it from, taking their staff and disappearing into the wilderness surrounding Elvenesse.

Salute. Have fun my guy, you deserve to rest.

Good stuff, +1 from me my guy.

Siruonn's head reeled back from the vision, body tensed before they exhaled sharply, they glance at their fae-ish arm that they had recently slammed against their desk repeatedly, then at the other arm, they were incomplete, abominable and that arm was the perpetual reminder of such, reminding them of who they lost, who they failed to protect. "Prayer, huh" Their voice was barely more than a whisper, yet it held the weight of the previous years in it "well, if i can take anything away from you, is that if you want something done, you should do it yourself" the statement was a hiss under their breath. "sleep well, sister." Siruonn then asked, they did not plead, it was merely a wish, a farewell of sorts. "Sleep well."

A disheveled elf , upon receiving notice of his passing paused, taking in a breath and raising their oddly shaped hand to their face. Siruonn's refusal to cry was in no way out of spite or out of anger, but out of fear, fear that someone that similar to them had come to an end, doubt about how and why bounced inside their mind like a pinball machine, rattling the inside of their skull, they had spoken to him few hours before the fact, yet they did not know how his story ended, and perhaps they did not want to know either.

Can we please get rid of vortex since we're already nuking the useless sh*t?

Sounds Good.

Siruonn does a double take as they saw the missive, reading the part of where they mentioned fighting the sea over and over again, groaning for a solid 30 seconds before rubbing the bridge of their nose with their plant-like arm and exhaling, their sleep-deprived mind trying to make sense of what they read for so long they actually considered just ignoring it. "the sea? really?! the ****ing sea?!" was all that left the Boreal Druii's maw as they shuffled in their seat to do something else...

Siruonn's form shrunk into itself as the sorrow surged through them, the loss hit them, their teacher, their housemate and their best friend didn't share the same sky as them anymore, they cried, head buried in their knees as wave after wave of sobbing rippled through their being picking up in intensity as the time went. "bastards... all of them" they hissed out under their breath, their sorrow being stampeded into something else, a seething flame under their skin.

"what they gonna do? Mother****ers can't even hold a sword right!" The Boreal Druii spoke out with a snort, that developed into roaring, wheezing laughter right after as their beaked facade stood statue still, while their ever-present grin was on full display. As they held their stomach with a gloved hand. "also what's with it with children in the military?!" they murmured out, a tilt of their head creating a popping sound from their neck. "There are more pressing matters at hand than your nation's bickering you mouth-breathing troglodytes."

The Boreal Druid peered up at the sky, watching the ever-distant bird and the bubble, challenges are to come, their smile never faltering and their beaked mascarade-like mask fixed across the upper part of their facade. They grit their teeth underneath all that, the lanky ball of hatred took their stave into their hands and exited their home, ready for things to go ****ing buckwild.